Moseying Along
by Goldylokz
Summary: Magneto gave the three youngest Acolytes a wad of money and kicked them out of the house on Saturday night. Not really much to the story at all. Oneshot.


Hey all! I wrote this one-shot over the summer but I lost it and just found it. It takes place after Dark Horizon episodes but before Impact, 'cause I wrote it before seeing Impact. It could have it take place after and the story might have better depth, but then Mags 'couldn't kick the boys out of the base 'cause he'd be "dead."

This fic has absolutely nothing to do with my other fic, _Nine to Five_, which will be updated in another 5 weeks or so, after graduation. Anyway, here's the story, hope you enjoy it!

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**Moseying Along**

"I got some dollars, I got some dollars, I got some dollars, hey, hey, hey ,hey!" St. John Allerdyce sang his version of the Little Rascals' song and skipped down the street with two of his comrades in arms following not very closely behind.

"Do ya d'ink he'll tire out soon?" the tall, suave Remy LeBeau asked the tanklike Russian Piotr Rasputin at his side.

"I should think so. He has been skipping for three blocks now," Piotr responded.

"I d'ought cabin fever was suppose ta stay in the cabin," Remy mused.

"I do not think John was suffering from cabin fever," the Russian said, "I think that Magneto had too much of John in concentrate with all of us in the base for so long."

John was a half block ahead of the two at that point. He momentarily stopped his merry prancing to call back to Piotr and Remy: "What are you two blokes waiting for?! The boss man gave us a whole wad of money…" John pulled a crumpled wad of green paper out of the front pocket of his faded jeans and flashed it in front of them, marveling at its existence. "…just to get out of his sight for the night and you guys are just moseying along."

"Oui, we have all dis money," Remy confirmed, "but what are we goin' to do wit it?"

"STRIP CLUB!!" John cried out for the world to hear.

"But we don' know the club's in Bayville, what if we go to one an' it's ladies' night?"

"I wouldn't mind," John smiled.

"Dat's right. I forgot," Remy said. "An' how would Pietro feel 'bout you watching male stripers?"

"Who cares?" John threw his arms to the sides as if discarding something. "Pietro's old news. Have you seen his sister?! She's the one who got the looks in the family." John faced forward and started walking along side Remy.

Remy turned his head so John could see the surprised expression on his face. "Does your speed bunny know about dis?"

"Know what?" John asked innocently.

"Dat you're pining after his sister," the Cajun specified.

John shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. So, onwards to the nearest strip club?"

Remy rolled his eyes, "No, I, for one, dunna want to take the chance of paying good money to see men dance around in thongs. 'Sides, I think Piotr here," Remy slapped the Russian, who had been blushing silently since the entire erotic dancing thing was mentioned, "doesn't feel comfortable exploiting women like that."

"Who's exploiting? They know perfectly well what they are doing. It's not like they're kidnapped and held at gunpoint."

"No," was Remy's final answer.

"Humph," John crossed his arms. "You guys are no fun." They walked in silence for a bit, trying to come up with a new plan.

Piotr came up with an idea first. "How about a movie?"

"A movie?" John groaned and dragged his feet for a few steps. "All you do is sit there for two hours. It's so booorrrrring and… . . passive. I need something to release some of my pent up energy." And just to prove his point, St. John started jumping up and down and bounding around trees and parking meters.

Although Remy mentally agreed with him, a movie seemed like a good idea for the time being. He wanted to hit the clubs and do some romancing, but it was too early. A movie would be a good filler. "Hey John," Remy called to the hyperactive Aussie, "why don' you just run a couple laps around the theater an' d'en meet us inside."

John stopped hopping and put his hands on his hips. "Ha, ha," he laughed sarcastically. "Come on guys," John whined, "let's do something else."

"I want to see a movie," Piotr firmly stated.

John leaned across Remy to look Piotr in the face. "Well, I wanted to see some stripers, but I got vetoed."

"Settle down, children." Remy put up his hands to separate the two. "We shall settle this fairly, like our forefathers did before us:" Remy paused dramatically. "Rock, Paper, Scissors. You know the rules."

John and Piotr each held out their right hands in a fist.. Even clenched, Piotr's hand shadowed John's.

"Okay, One. . .Two. . . Three . . . Shoot!" Remy announced as their synchronized fists shook up and down.

On shoot, John's hand remained clenched, showing that his choice was rock. Piotr, on the other hand, unwrapped his index and middle finger, making scissors.

"Ha, HA! I won!" John jumped for joy. "Rock breaks scissors," the Aussie then when through the entire motion of knocking down Piotr's scissor shaped hand.

*CLUNK!*

"OUCH!" groaned John after his small fleshy hand hit the organic metal scissor-hand of Piotr. He rubbed his right hand with his left. "Right, mate. You win. I forgot the stipulation in the Rock, Paper, Scissors Handbook that says that steel scissors shatter boney rocks."

Piotr smiled. "I believe there is a theater a few blocks east." Piotr turned to the right and the others followed.

After a few minutes, John recovered or at least forgot about his throbbing hand in order to jabber on about whatever popped up into his warped mind. Remy stopped paying attention after John launched into a story about squirrels in tutus, and occupied his mind with checking out all the girls he walked by and imaging the cut, perky ones prancing around a kitchen in only aprons serving him delicious Creole food. He smiled at his fantasy despite the fact that the majority of the girls probably had trouble making toast.

The trio passed a genuine coffee house. It was cramped with mismatched comfortable sofas and chairs and bean bags, and a small stage for open mic nights and the occasional acoustic show. As they passed the window, John made his epiphany: "THEREFORE, GOATS MUST BE INHERENTLY FUNNY!" But Remy was not even pretending to pay attention. As they had walked past the coffee shop something, or should I say someone, caught Remy's eye. He stopped walking. A few paces later John and Piotr noticed their missing friend and halted as well.

"What's the hold up?" John called.

Remy's eyes never left the café window as he replied, "Why don' you guys go on ahead and save me a seat. . . Better yet, save two." Remy looked at his reflection in the window and straightened the collar on his trench coat, then ran a hand through his brown hair.

Both John and Piotr could not help but roll their eyes. "Do you think he can go five minutes without finding something sheila to flirt with?" John asked Piotr as they walked on. Piotr just shrugged. "Well," John continued, "he better get something for each of us too."

In the meantime, Remy finished prepping his reflection in the window and confidently strolled into the coffee shop. He stopped briefly at the counter to get a drink but didn't let the batting of the coffee girl's eyelashes distract him from his own mission. . . .at least not too badly.

After tossing a few dollars on the counter and slipping a coaster with the coffee girl's number on it in his pocket, Remy made his way to the table by the window. There a lone girl was sitting and starring into her coffee with a book by her side.

"Now, what is de most beautiful girl in New York doin' sittin' alone in a little coffee shop on a Saturday night?" Remy announced his presence.

"Ah dunna know, maybe ya should go find her an' ask." The girl flipped back her auburn and white stripped hair. She set down her drink and picked up her novel. She pretended to be entirely engrossed; too much so to acknowledge the Cajun who sat down across from her.

"Okay," Remy said, "Why are you here alone on a Saturday night?"

Rogue did not look up from her book. "Ah like ta be alone. Now leave," she demanded, but her request was not fulfilled.

"I would, but I don' d'ink you really want to be alone right now."

This time the Goth looked up. "Yes, ah do."

"No, if you wanted to be alone you would have sat in one of the dark corner or something, not next to the window. See, if you sit by the window, one of your friends might see you and join you. And look," Remy held his hands out open palmed, "your plan worked."

Surprisingly Rogue was not totally infuriated at his attempt to analyze her actions, because, for the most part, he was right.

Rogue closed her book, then gave Remy an annoyed look. "Now what do ya want?"

"I want to know why you are alone on a Saturday night, 'cause it really is a crime." Remy flashed her a sexy smile, but it didn't phase Rogue.

"Ah deserve ta be alone," Rogue softly replied and reopened her book.

A concerned look crossed Remy's face. "Non, why'd you say dat, chere?"

"It's easier this way." Rogue sighed and continued after seeing Remy would sit there forever until she answered him. "Ah hurt anyone ah touch, not ta mention ah single-handedly released and empowered the world's most dangerous mutant bent on the enslavement of the earth. Ya happy?" she snapped.

His face grew very serious. "Dat wasn't you, cher. Stop punishing yourself."

"Ah don' need a lecture. Now leave!" Rogue shoved her face back into her book.

Remy never made a move. Rogue looked up, annoyed again. "Why are ya still here?"

Remy smiled his irresistible player smile and made a reach for her gloved hands. "Dat kiss you gave me left me wanting more. . ."

Rogue pulled back, confusion spread across her face. "Kiss? What kiss?"

"De one you gave me after you knocked out Piotr and John.. . . er . . .Colossus and Pyro out and roughed me up a bit."

It took a few seconds for Rogue to realize what he was talking about. "Ah never kissed ya, that was all Mesmero."

Remy shook his head. "You can' tell me dat you had absolutely no say in dat. Why in de world would Mesmero want to kiss me?"

Rogue's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Suppose its your charming personality." She set one elbow on the table and laid her smiling face in her hand. "Ancient, bald, tattooed slaves get lonely too, ya know."

Remy shuddered. "Please don' say dat ever again. It triggers mental pictures almost as bad as John and Pietro."

"Why should John and Pietro cause bad mental pictures?" Rogue's curiosity surfaced.

Remy raised one eyebrow. "Why do you d'ink Magneto sent Pietro back to da Brotherhood so fast? I'll give ya a hint: It wasn't so Pietro could whip them into shape."

"OH!" Rogue figured it out, then shuddered.

"Magneto's plan worked. Only now John's pining for de other twin Wanda. John-boy says she's got de looks in de family."

"That will not end well."

"Yeah." Remy looked at his watch. The movie would probably be starting soon. With regret Remy stood up. "I gotta go. I'm suppose to meet John and Piotr at the theater soon." The Cajun paused for a second. "You wanna join us?"

Rogue considered his offer. That really surprised her, but ultimately her answer was: "Uh, no. Ah don't think so."

His face fell. "Why not? 'fraid what your goody-goody friends might think?"

"Ah don' care what they think."

"Then come."

"No," she said. To changer her answer now would be to admit he was right.

"Why not?"

A lame but acceptable excuse popped out of Rogue's violet lips. "Ah'm not in the mood for a movie."

"Suit yourself. If you change your mind, I'll save you a seat." Remy winked then turned his back and started to leave.

"Remy," Rogue called after him. He turned and smiled.

A hideously evil grin spread over Rogue's face. "Remy and Mesmero sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G . . ." she chanted. Remy shuddered and put his hands over his ears as he melodramatically ran out of the coffee shop. As he passed Rogue's window, he could not resist bowing then winking at her.

After Remy left, Rogue tried to get back into her book. It was impossible, she would read a sentence or two and then her mind would wander. Another five minutes passed before Rogue closed her book, and slipped it into her back pocket. She stood up, took one last gulp of her cooling drink, and left the coffee house.

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*trumpets sound* fine.


End file.
